"Ready?" asked Bob, trying to appear quite at his ease, though doubtless his heart was thumping at a tremendous rate at the prospect of their once more daring the dangers of the flood.
"Yes, push off, Bob!" said Sandy, wonderfully grave, for him.
Truth to tell there was no doubt but that every one of them just then was occupied with secretly praying that success might attend their object, and the friendly shore be attained in safety.
"Here goes, then!"
With the words Bob gave a shove, and the canoe once more danced upon the swollen waters of the furious Ohio.
Immediately every paddle was set to work. The boat made a good start, and shot away from the lower end of the island like a thing of life, heading for the southern bank of the river.
Then came that strong current, and seized hold. The paddles rose and fell, fast and faster. Muscles were brought to bear that dipped the blades deeply below the surface, and, despite the sweep of the tide, they kept continually edging nearer and nearer the goal for which they were aiming.
There was a deep satisfaction in this. It spurred them all on to doing better things. When a wave slopped over the side Silas Hemphill needed no reminder to tell him his duty, but, picking up the little cooking kettle, he started to relieve the canoe of its burden of water.
No one said a word. There was scant breath for the work that occupied their attention, not to mention talking. Actions must take the place of conversation at such a time.
All the while Bob knew that they were gaining. The shore for a brief space of time stood out more positively than before. True, it was beginning to rain, and coming down harder and harder with each passing moment; but even this could not wholly cast a damper over his satisfaction.